en to the flames and absolutely destroyed. Thousands of
tins of condensed milk had flown like bombs in all directions, and
like bombs had burst, when the intense heat had turned the confined
milk to steam. Butter by the ton had ignominiously ended its days by
merely adding so much more fat to the fire. All good things here,
laboriously treasured for the benefit of the Transvaal troops, were
consumed in quite another fashion from that intended. Even accumulated
locomotives to the number of about fifty had been in some cases
elaborately mutilated, or caught, and twisted out of all utility, by
the devouring flames. So wanton is the waste war begets. The torch has
played a comparatively small part in this contest; but it is food
supplies that have suffered most from its ravages, and the Boers, with
a slimness that baffled us, having thus burned their food, bequeathed
to us their famished wives and children. Thousands of these innocents
drew full British rations, when thousands of British soldiers were
drawing half rations. That is not the Old Testament and Boer-beloved
way of waging war, but it foreshadows the slow dawning of an era when,
constrained by an overmastering sense of brotherhood,

Men will hang the trumpet in the hall,
And study war no more!

[Sidenote: _More fat and mightier flames._]

Beyond Avoca we rested for the night at Fever Creek, and were alarmed
by the approach of a heavy thunderstorm just as we were commencing
our dinner in the dense darkness. So I crept for refuge between the
courses of our homely meal under a friendly waggon, and thence came
forth from time to time as wind and weather permitted, to renew
acquaintance with my deserted platter. Finally, when the storm had
somewhat abated, we sought the scanty protection and repose to be
found under our damp blankets. That for us with such favouring
conditions Fever Creek did not justify its name seems wonderful.

On the Wednesday of that week the Guards' Brigade made a desperate
push to reach Kaap Muiden, where the Barberton branch joins the main
line to Delagoa Bay, though the ever-haunting transport difficulty
made the effort only imperfectly successful. Three out of the four
battalions were compelled to bivouac seven miles behind, while the one
battalion that did that night reach the junction had at the finish a
sort of racing march to get there. While resting for a few minutes
outside "The Lion's Creek" station the colonel